Wednesday, June 8, 2011

This version of perfect

Shiny, happy people.

Know any of these?  The people who are forever optimistic.  The ones who's lives are always filled with happiness and joy.  The ones who meet stumbling blocks and proclaim immediately that it must be god's plan.  The people who never really seem to have anything really bad happen.  The ones who seem to always be on vacation somewhere.   The ones who really did get the rainbow farting unicorn we all signed up for.

Those people.

I know some of them. 

A few of them are very good friends of mine. 

And I'm happy for them, really I am. 

But sometimes I also want to plug my fingers in my ears and scream la la la la la, I can't hear you.  At least occasionally.

Not that any of their constant good fortune and good moods and good circumstances in life is to be faulted.  It isn't.  Really.  It's awesome.

There are just times that I want to wallow in my own misery and I don't want to hear about how perfect someone else's life is. 

I don't ever say that, of course.  I smile and congratulate them and rejoice in their happiness.  I am proud of my friends, happy for the successes.  I am. 

I also know that nothing is ever what it seems.  Some people, as I have been accused of myself, portray their lives quite convincingly as perfect.  Except there is no such thing.  There are just versions of perfect, peppered with imperfect, none of them actually as perfect as any of us could have hoped for. 

I had a hard time when I first joined Facebook with this.  Not that everyone on Facebook has pretty little, tied up with a bow, kind of lives or anything, because they don't.  But it was more that so many people had expected that from me. 

Hell, I had expected that for me.  Planned on it, even. 

And my life is wonderful.  I am married to a fabulous man who I adore almost all the time.  I have a house full of generally healthy, generally well behaved children, even if they do seem to attempt mutiny from time to time.

It just isn't the life I planned for.

I guess I'm just a little disappointed in myself right now.  I can't do everything that I set out to do.  I didn't finish what I started.  I wasn't who I was supposed to be.  I couldn't be.

I was going to be a world class juggler.  A super mom who could perfectly balance a magnificently successful career and a family.  It was going to be awesome.

Then life got in the way and my career got disastrously derailed. 

Literal train wreck.  

Flames and explosions and passersby stopping to watch and all that. 

Here I am now, in this version of perfect that I didn't anticipate.  At a point in my life I didn't plan to be.  With a new set of responsibilities that I wasn't thinking I'd have now.

And trying to make it work. 

Trying to form a career from what I love to do now.  Trying to forget that horrific train wreck and forgive myself for failing.   Trying to juggle having that passion for something and having a home that is at least occasionally clean.  Trying to raise up my babies the best way I know how.  Trying to be thoughtful and funny and observant and witty. 

Trying to be perfect.

At least in this version, anyway.

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